


Moments

by catgirl26



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catgirl26/pseuds/catgirl26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't drabble often, but when I do, I guess I'll put it here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

These drabbles were written for the BV Drabble Night #2 over at the [We're Just Saiyan](https://plus.google.com/communities/110779010367791694420) community. It's a kind of write-in event where a series of ten prompts are given, and you have up to 30 minutes to complete each. The prompts also follow a mystery theme, which you're supposed to guess. I'm not a big drabbler, and I was only able to stick around for 3 prompts, but it was a good time.

The theme was Autumn, the individual prompts serve at the drabble titles below.

 

**Apple** (96 words)

“Come on, live a little,” Bulma said in that teasing way of hers, and he fought the urge to shut down the GR and take her straight to bed.  “One afternoon, Vegeta, it’s all I ask.” His eyes darted toward her then, taking note of the pout on her face, her plump, downturned lips. Her mouth was his downfall, the thing he hated and loved most about her. She was Eve and this treacherous thing, these apple-red lips, were there solely to drive him from his training, his Eden, and into that hell she called feeling.

 

**Cotton Sweater**  (113 words)

Vegeta wrinkled his nose as he sifted through the pile of clothing on his floor. Every shirt he owned stank. He crossed the hall to the Briefs’ room – the doctor’s clothes were all 3 sizes too big, something would surely fit. Vegeta rifled through a closet, pulled something out. Navy blue. Soft, clean cotton. A bit snug, but good enough. He put it on and left the room.

Bulma walked past. Stopped. Stepped back with a weird look on her face.

“What?” Vegeta snapped, and Bulma said nothing. She’d really have to teach him to read Earth’s language soon, but for now he could go to hell – wearing her mom’s “Hot Mama” sweatshirt.

 

**Chilly** (128 words)

A breeze washed through the window, raising a million goosebumps on Vegeta’s skin. Odd. Where the hell was his blanket? He opened his eyes, unwilling, to spy the quilt-wrapped bundle next to him. “Damn it,” he sighed and reached over to cover himself up, only to realize that Bulma had literally rolled herself up in a down burrito. Where were the ends? He reached over her shoulder, jabbed his hands beneath her back, peering through the darkness to find an opening. Bulma muttered and rolled, and Vegeta saw his chance. He snatched the end of the blanket and pulled. Bulma held tighter and snarled in her sleep, clutching the quilt as though she were defending her young. Vegeta sighed and rolled on his back. He’d just stay chilly.


	2. Chapter 2

These pseudo-drabbles were written for a Mature BVDN night at We’re Just Saiyan.

6 prompts, 300 words, 40 minutes per prompt. I did better at some word counts than others!

**Legend** (477 words)

It wasn’t that Bulma believed in ghosts and bogeymen…but she didn’t exactly _not_ believe in them either. And the deserted wing of a creepy old boarding school at midnight wasn’t exactly the place to be testing theories.

“They say the boy killed this entire wing,” Eighteen said, shining her flashlight down the hallway. Dust motes danced in the beam of light, and Chichi pressed closer to Bulma’s side. “He went from room to room, slitting their throats with a kitchen knife, and then he just disappeared. Some say he jumped from a cliff and drowned himself in the sea, some say he just went into hiding.”

“I heard he lives in the old tunnels beneath the school.” Launch was shivering in her flannel nightgown. It was unexpectedly cold in this wing.

“There are no tunnels, that’s just a legend. A myth,” Bulma said, sounding braver than she felt.

“But the story about the boy is true,” Eighteen said. “You can look it up in the library archives.”

“That was eighty years ago. If that kid survived, he’s an old man now.”

A sudden knock behind one of the closed doors had all the girls shrieking with fright. They clung together in a knot. “Go open that door.” Eighteen gave Bulma a little shove. “If you’re so brave.”

Bulma inched slowly from the protective circle of her friends, slippers scuffing across the old floorboards. Shaking, she reached out and grasped the doorknob. “Please be locked.” But the knob turned and the door swung open with an ominous creak, as though pulled from inside.

“See, there’s nothing,” Bulma said, relief flooding her veins. She reached in to grab hold of the doorknob, intending to shut the door again, when suddenly a hand closed around her wrist.

“Chop chop, going to slice you up,” said a voice from within the darkness. Bulma shrieked, yanked her wrist back as hard as she could, and stumbled backward. She barrelled into her friends and they began screaming too, their slippered feet pounding the floor as they ran toward safety…only to stop halfway down the hall as howls of laughter chased them.

“You jerks!” Bulma shouted, wiping tears from her face. “You frigging assholes! Vegeta, that was you wasn’t it? Who else is in there?” she demanded. “Goku?”

“And Krillin and Tien,” Eighteen said, reaching for her flashlight only to realize she’d dropped it.

“Oh man, we got you good.” Krillin laughed as he led the boys from behind the door.

“What kind of idiots are you, anyway?” Vegeta asked, sneering in the darkness.

“Hey, who keeps moving the light?” Goku asked, and eight sets of eyes looked down to see Eighteen’s flashlight slowly rolling down the floorboards toward them, as though kicked from further in. The kids stood staring at it for a moment before they all turned and fled, screaming bloody murder.

 

 **Pumpkin** (392 words)

Vegeta sniffed the air, wrinkled his nose, and huffed. Whatever it was smelled mouth-wateringly good, but he’d already been kicked out of the kitchen once that day by a raging Briefs woman, and he didn’t know he wanted to repeat the experience. It was Thanksgiving again; he remembered this holiday, mostly because of all the food. What he didn’t get was why Bulma and her mother whipped themselves up into such a state of fury to prepare a meal that was supposed to be all about peace and love.

Humans. They didn’t even understand their own silly rituals, how was he ever to get it?

Still though, the scent of pumpkin pie was a siren song to his growling belly. Perhaps worth the risk of his dignity.

Vegeta slunk into the kitchen, surprised to find that Mrs. Briefs was nowhere to be seen. Bulma was alone, bent over the oven as she pulled out a golden brown pie. She was humming under her breath and her ass was bopping to the beat.

She looked ridiculous, with one of her mother’s obnoxiously frilly aprons on to protect her expensive outfit, and yet he felt a response stirring in his groin. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and he watched her place the pie on the counter and inhale deeply. She sighed with pleasure and he felt himself beginning to salivate.

Bulma cut herself a sliver of pie and picked up a can of whipped cream. Her breasts bounced as she shook it, and Vegeta found himself maybe understanding the appeal of the apron. She squirted whipped cream liberally over the pie and took a delicate bite, moaning with pleasure at the taste of it. Vegeta watched her mouth, plump, soft lips sucking every last bit of cream from the fork, tongue slipping out to catch a missed bit on her lip. God he wanted those lips on his cock. With an absolutely naughty grin, she dipped her finger in the smear of cream on her plate, brought it to her mouth, and sucked it clean.

“Vegeta,” she said, and he started, realizing too late that he’d been caught peeping. “Have you ever licked whipped cream off a woman’s naked body?”

“No,” he said, breathing hard as she turned to face him.

“Do you want to?” she asked, and he couldn’t do anything but nod.

 

 **Bridge** (442 words)

“Why did I agree to ride in this stupid car of yours again?” Vegeta asked, arms crossed over his seatbelt and glared out at the traffic.

“Because every once in a while I need you to be normal.” Bulma tried to control her urge to lay on the horn. They were at a standstill, stuck on a bridge that spanned the whole of East Bay. No way her hovercar would fit between the gaps in the iron girders.

“Flying is normal.”

“Traffic is fucking normal,” Bulma snapped. “What are you doing?” Vegeta unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted toward her.

“You’re furious. Blood is pumping through your veins like you could kill.” He leaned in and breathed in her scent. “Makes me want to fuck your brains out.”

Bulma yelped as his warm hand closed over her knee. “What the hell are you doing? People will see!” Vegeta’s tongue darted over her ear and she gasped, fingers tight on the wheel.

“Bad idea,” Bulma ground out as his hand stole up under her skirt. She didn’t make a move to stop him.

“Spread your thighs.” His fingers traced her panties and he chuckled in her ear. “You’re wet. Anger makes you so hot for it.”

“Fuck off.” Bulma was panting and her leg trembled with the effort of keeping her foot still. “E-brake Vegeta. Please.” She kept her eyes on the road as Vegeta yanked the brake.

“So demanding.” Vegeta shoved his hand back between her legs, pushed her panties to the side, and Bulma gasped as he plunged two fingers into the warm, wetness of her.   
  
“I hate you right now,” she said as she squirmed against his hand. “You’re a fucking asshole.” She looked studiously at the car in front of her, terrified that if she looked to either side, someone in the neighbouring cars would look over and see what Vegeta was doing to her.

“Where are we even going?” Vegeta asked, pushing down with the heel of his hand as his fingers curled up within her. “I’m going to bend you over and bury myself in you when we get there.”

“Vegeta…ah!” Bulma bit her lip and tried not to shout as she clamped Vegeta’s arm tight between her thighs, bucking up against him as much as her seatbelt and steering wheel would allow. He laughed in her ear as she came.

Vegeta eased his hand from beneath Bulma’s skirt, and she glared at him as he brought his fingers to his mouth and slowly licked them clean. “Oh look, they’re moving,” Vegeta said, as he buckled himself in. Bulma squirmed in her wet panties and disengaged the handbrake.

 

 **Dark Horse** (253 words)

Bulma grimaced in discomfort as a bead of sweat trickled down her back. Her corset was soaked with sweat and she hoped it didn’t show on the outer layers of her dress. It was way too hot and dusty to be wearing so many layers of skirting. She felt bad for the mare beneath her, forced to carry so much extra weight.

Ahead of her, her guide’s big, black stallion champed at the bit. She didn’t know horseflesh, but the beast was huge and ill tempered – almost as bad as his rider. It was really a shame; he was handsome as hell, and apparently a man of great skill. His hands were rough and work-worn, and Bulma had a desperate curiosity to know what they might feel like against her skin.

Every time they stopped to break or make camp for the night, he would silently help her dismount from her sidesaddle. Every time, she imagined him putting his hands up her skirt, instead of around her waist.  

Bulma was a flirt, but she’d grown up in a moneyed family. She didn’t know how to make this gritty cowboy pay attention to her. She wanted him to throw her down, flip her skirts up, and-

“How are you holding up?” Yamcha asked, as his horse pulled up beside hers. “I’m getting mighty saddlesore.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Bulma blushed, feeling guilty that her fiancé had interrupted her daydreams, yet again.

Ahead, the dark horse whickered in protest as his rider tensed on the reins.

 

 **Horseman** (280 words)

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Bulma said. Vegeta quirked an eyebrow at her, and his fingers stilled over the laces of her corset. Bulma bit her lip. “I’m going to do it anyway,” she said, and he went back to work. She squirmed shyly as her breasts sprang free of their confinement, and tried to cover herself as Vegeta tugged down the chemise beneath her corset. Her dress hung limply on a coat peg, and she stood before him in nothing but her petticoat.

He grabbed her wrists, pulling away modest hands, and pressed her down into the hay. His rough woolen blanket was scratchy beneath her, a far cry from her fine cotton sheets, but she hardly noticed it as he took her breast in his mouth. She clutched at him, hands pushing his unbuttoned shirt open and back, so she could feel his taut shoulders, the ropey muscles in his upper arms. His body was hard, honed from hours on that beastly horse of his.

Her family would all die of shame if they knew she was here, on her back in a lowly horseman’s bed of straw. Vegeta shifted atop her, and Bulma heard the clink of his belt buckle and the rustle of his pants as he slid them down over his hips. His hands were on her calves, moving up to spread her thighs, rucking her underskirt up around her waist.

“Vegeta,” she gasped as his fingers found the center of her, touched and teased her into readiness. She felt her face and chest flare with heat as he positioned himself to enter her, and prayed briefly for forgiveness before he sank deep within her.

 

 **Headless** (154 words)

“Did you know that the female black widow spider will eat her mate after sex?” Bulma crossed her arms and tapped one foot as she watched Vegeta peel of his dirty, blood-encrusted training gear and drop it on the bedroom floor.

“Today on Earth Facts I Didn’t Need to Fucking Know…” Vegeta grumbled, and padded naked into the bathroom. Bulma followed, leaning against the doorjamb as Vegeta reached into the shower to turn on the water.

“Yep. Apparently they get eaten if they don’t run away fast enough after finishing. Sometimes she’ll bite the poor guy’s head off during the act, so he can’t run away.”

“Look, Bulma, I know you’re mad because I missed your party or whatever but think about this for a minute.” Vegeta turned and locked eyes with his wife. He was dirty, sore, tired, and sporting a raging battle hard-on. “If I’m headless, who’s going to lick your pussy?"


End file.
